On the Horizon

Well, Christmas is over. It’s time to put the music, tree, ornaments, gifts, and movies away and get back to serious business, for we are serious people . God was good to us this year to give us a “second family” to celebrate with. For the Barneys, Millers, and Apsleys please know how much you were missed and thought of. We look forward to coming home and celebrating holidays with you again soon…

As I was sitting in church about to preach on Christmas Eve it dawned on me … Uncle Jeff would be preaching that morning, Dad would be conducting and leading the choir, Jeff was probably playing organ, Stacey was probably singing and or playing bell choir, Jennifer was probably taking care of power point, Casey might be doing music in Big Bear; I realized that there in church I was with family by extension - as each of us was with the family of God, so also we were together.

Preaching went well on Sunday and Monday. By “well” I mean I didn’t faint, and I learned a lot all week while I was studying. A few of you have asked what I preached on and for those who asked I will send you a copy of my notes. But for this blog I wanted to highlight one point I taught on Christmas day.

We were looking at the responses given in scripture to the Birth of Christ. I have always thought of it as Shepherds, Wise men, and Herod. For whatever reason, this was the first time I realized that Herod called together the Jewish Scribes and Priests to ask them where the King was to be born when the wise men show up at his palace. They answer him with the prophecy listed in Micah 5. And then the wise men go to find him, and the Priests stay home? Men who have devoted their lives to teaching Israel about the Messiah choose to ignore the truth when He comes. Even Herod believes the truth about the Messiah being born as seen in the drastic action he takes in killing the baby boys in Bethlehem. This struck me with the question, “Are we willing to allow the change that comes when God moves in our life, or would we rather ignore the truth to stay comfortable?”

We’ll be BUSY for the next two months here … we’re so excited … kids’ club, pastor’s seminars, women’s seminars, village trips … and two of the bigger projects we expect to be working on will be to get a fledgling Bible college off the ground and prepare to establish a youth camp here in Keseke.

Youth Camp … most of you have heard us talk about Eagle Ridge, the camp project we have been working intensively with for the past year. Once again, it “just so happens” that while the camp Board was praying and seeking ways to engage with international youth and use camping as a tool to reach them with the Gospel, that Harold & Coni were provided with land for a youth camp. As far as we know, there is no other ministry focused on the youth here, so we are very excited to explore the potential and connect as many dots as possible for Eagle Ridge to partner in this.

Bible College … the building has been found and rented, and now come the nitty-gritty details to prepare for students. The purpose of this school is to teach current African pastors in high-impact short term classes so they can go back into their areas and disciple their own flock. Africa has shallow spiritual roots because they have very few people to help them grow in depth and maturity. The need for discipleship has become very apparent in the past few years. While we work on this, their top translator and right hand man, Gabriel, will be leaving for the States late January/early February to study for a year at Calvary Chapel Bible College in Murrieta. For the year this is a big loss to them, but with a year of intensive study, Gabe will be an invaluable part of the ministry here. He is hilarious and hopefully when we get back we can introduce him to many of you; he is a joy to know. He will have a few months off in the summer, and we are hoping to take him to many of the churches that support Harold and Coni, so they can meet him and hear his heart about the work Harold and Coni are doing in this region, and the work the Father is doing throughout Africa.

In the meantime, here’s to sweating in 85 degree temperature with 75 percent humidity.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

This is the first Christmas either of us has been away from home … or as we’ve decided, “home” just has a new definition now. This year that means no snow or mistletoe, and dearly missed kin, but what a gift to still be sharing it with family here. Harold & Coni made it home (without needing surgery!) on Saturday, so we resumed the celebrations.

Today’s festivities included a Christmas Day service where Jason delivered the morning message, a baptism at the lake, card games and dominoes, a true feast compliments of Coni’s creativity and the electricity lasting long enough to finish cooking it, and even a few surprise gifts!

Merry Christmas, everyone. Know you are loved and missed …

Santa Claus & The Easter Bunny

A fat man who lives at the North Pole with elves who make toys all year long … yeah, try explaining that one to a native African. Moses is an extremely inquisitive young man who wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to ask this American girl staying in his friends’ home all about who Santa Claus is, why people celebrate Christmas if they don’t believe in the One it celebrates, what the Christmas tree is all about, and somehow we got to the Easter bunny.

And here’s the best I could boil it all down to – that all these things, notwithstanding the fun and silliness that we can all enjoy (I have happy memories of my Pa stomping on the roof with jingle bells, confirming that jolly St. Nick was visiting), are just ways to ignore what it would mean to encounter Truth. Jason has been preparing his Christmas message for Monday’s service, and I’ll give it away to those who won’t make it to the service in person …

There are four responses in Matthew & Luke to our Savior’s birth. Those who hear the glory and immediately respond with joy and celebration. Those who study and search and find Him at the end of a long journey. Those who have devoted their whole lives to looking for Him but refuse to change their lives when they have the chance to encounter Him. And those who recognize the Truth and do everything in their power to oppose it.

Different cultures may approach this holiday differently, but those responses can still be found, whether they’re disguised as Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny or something else a bit easier to describe.

Africa the Beautiful

Only three days in and we’re quite taken with the corner of Africa known as Tanzania. Particularly the Kigoma region, on the shore of Lake Tanganyika. We still have much to learn and explore among the red-dirt lanes, straw-thatched roofs, and lush green fields.

Harold & Coni greeted us with the perfect amount of TLC, including Christmas music playing, a wonderful warm dinner, and an evening to just talk and laugh and share about our Father’s work in each of our lives since we were with them in Cape Town. The next morning Jason & I attended our first Sunday service in Swahili. The accapella music, accompanied only by the amazingly rhythmic hands and feet of the clapping and dancing congregation, was refreshing to the soul, to say the least. Jason did a fabulous job as he presented the morning message on Colossians 3 – the difference the world should see in those who have been redeemed. His first – but not last – time with a Swahili interpreter . They asked to hear from me as well and I was able to tell my brief memory of the first Christmas I learned what it was all about … when I was 5, my mom and dad (Mama & Babe – only Swahili words I know yet) gave me a storybook called “The Christmas Donkey” – my personal treasure, and I still remember the innocent awe I had when I realized why we celebrated.

Yesterday brought an unexpected change of plans. Harold has been in quite a lot of pain from a kidney stone, and had to be hospitalized night before last. He and Coni left yesterday for Nairobi, Kenya, the nearest facility that has the means to care for him. Internet and power's been down so we don't have more news yet, but we’re hopeful to hear that he won’t require surgery. For them, this means the obvious pain and set-back of whatever it takes to get well. For us, it means we’ve found ourselves the unsuspecting master and mistress of a home in Africa until they return. Jason will likely be teaching on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and we hope to be involved in Christmas preparations this week with the local community of believers, but with that does come the internal challenge of seeking creative and pro-active means of using our week in a place that is still so new. So, soon it will be our turn to welcome the weary travelers with some TLC … until then, we will be immersed in this new world and look forward to our Father being glorified despite/through this turn in the road.

The Silver Cup

There once was a magnificent Kingdom ruled by a great King. The King’s son was soon to be married and the King wanted to give him a gift worthy of a Princely wedding. The King was a master craftsman gifted in shaping lumps of precious material into the most beautiful objects. He decided to create silver cups for each of the guests to drink from at the wedding feast. He set to work on finishing 1,000 silver cups. When he finished, though very tired, he smiled with satisfaction knowing this was a good gift for the Prince’s wedding. The King wrapped each cup individually and then covered them over in the cellar to protect them until the wedding.

Now this King was not without an enemy. Upon learning of the Prince’s wedding, the King’s enemy sought a way to ruin the gift the King prepared for his son. He knew the cups were made of such quality that nothing would be able to destroy them – the workmanship was too fine and the superiority of the metal to any of his own weapons that any attempt to damage the cups would be futile. However, he knew their value and purpose would be lost if he only uncovered them and exposed them to the elements of nature. Several weeks before the great wedding feast, this enemy made his way to the cellar through cover of shadow and darkness, and unwrapped each precious cup.

The eve of the wedding came and the King took his son to the cellar to present him with his gift. But as they arrived they saw the cover had been pulled back and each cup exposed. The enemy had thrown dirt and oil upon them and the silver had begun to tarnish. The King cried at the loss and then called his servants to take the cups away as they were no longer worthy to be drunk from by even the lowliest of men, let alone used at a royal wedding. But the son looked at his father with a soft and quiet heart and said, “Father, let me take the cups, and each one will I carefully take time with. The quality of the cup is good; I will remove the tarnish and redeem the cups. I will restore them to their original value.”

The Prince did just that. All night long he washed and scrubbed each cup. Removing all of the sludge and dirt, he scrubbed so hard his hands bled. The blood mingled with the water was the perfect combination to scrub away the dirt. On the morning of the wedding the sun peaked over the hill and gleamed over 1000 perfect silver cups.

The King came to the Prince and rejoiced with him. “You have restored my gift, you have redeemed the cups. Truly they are once again worthy for the royal guests to drink the royal wine.”

Leaving Rajkot

We spent the weekend in Delhi with Peter & Heather Malakar, then took a 21+ hour train ride back here to Rajkot. Now it’s time to say goodbye and head to Tanzania. We are both sad to say goodbye to the Dave family, but also excited to be in Kigoma and part of the Kneppers’ life there for a couple months.

Hard to believe Christmas is just around the corner. Devsmita decorated her first Christmas tree this week and it was great fun to be part of it with her – including a shining star at the top, reminding us of the manger where our King was born.

It would be impossible to explain how dear the Dave family has become to us. Their friendship is a new treasure, and we look forward to continuing it despite the miles.

Inquiries

Everywhere we’ve gone in India and Nepal the question is “From which country?”. Most of the time it’s out of pure curiosity and nothing more. It’s like our question of “What do you do?” – but here in the East, it’s more important where you come from. When it’s a sweet giggling child who just wants to practice their English, or a young teenager who has honest wide-eyed fascination about where we come from, it can be endearing. In fact, one of the cutest things is the young teenage girls who practice their “Hello”, and then when I say it back, they giggle like they’ve been caught.

But unfortunately, many have also been tainted and jaded to see Americans as a source to take from. In one neighborhood, the children said “Hello-one-Rupee” as if it was all one word – a standard greeting. Another unabashed boy (and I’m not talking about the street begging children, mind you, but well dressed school children) TOLD me to give him ten rupees. An intellectual/emotional battle rages each time a young hand begs, especially in light of Scripture that tells us to give freely as we have freely received. Emotionally you want to believe that giving will help, but intellectually you know it will not. This was proven to us when we went to the Nepali village that as of yet remains un-jaded by tourism. We could see in living person the fresh innocence that these children still had and how zealously it needs to be guarded.

Perhaps the most interesting inquiry of all, though, was a Tibetan monk who stopped us and asked “From which country?”. When Jason said “USA”, he said “Oh, a rich country.” We instinctively bristled for what he would then ask for, but instead he said “I am from Tibet, so I have no country. You are twice blessed. You both have a country and it is a rich country.” He spoke with a toothy smile and then just walked away leaving us humbly chagrined.

Fun with B&J

We leave Kathmandu tomorrow - back to India for a week before heading to Tanzania! A week that is already full and promises to go by as fast as this one did. It feels like we just arrived, taking in the mountains and the valleys that accentuate their heights.

We simply can not leave here without telling you about our friends Bea & Jan (pronounced Bay-ah and Yon). They are such fun and we have had a tremendous week with them as they've fit us in to their very full work weeks! They both work in Human Rights - Bea works for the UN and Jan for Peace Brigade International. Bea's work is focused specifically on the recruitment of children by the Maoist militia. Before that she investigated detention and torture. We have had several fascinating discussions with her in learning about the work she does, including travelling to remote villages to interview families whose children "volunteered" to join the Maoists. It can be frustrating to hear about the UN as a whole and wonder how much effect they can truly have when for the most part their decisions come with little or no enforcement. But as Bea shared, if even a few lives are better/saved because of the work they do, it is worth it. Hearing the real-life encounters brings a totally new dimension.

But they're not all work and no play ... oh no, we have had so much fun exploring the city by night, laughing over fabulous dinners, talking through life and faith and relationships, hiking out to Changu Narayan, and flying up to see Mt. Everest ... we are so grateful for all this week has brought, both in new experiences and new friendships.

Perspectives

Bhandipur is a little village on top of a hill ridge facing the Himalayan mountains. A four hour bus ride and 30 min jeep drive (by this I mean standing on a tail gate holding on for dear life while the wind splashes your face with reminders you’re alive) away from Kathmandu, this quaint little village remains relatively untouched and unaffected by the tourist culture so rampant in Kathmandu. Here Brooke and I were able to retreat for a day and night away.

The beauty of this little paradise, “where the jungle meets the Himalayas”, is remarkable. Here is the antithesis of the smog filled and noise polluted capital city. Our room boasted a view over the entire valley facing the snow capped mountains.

That evening we climbed up a mountain to a local Buddhist shrine to watch the sunset. While sitting atop the mountain we used our time singing praise and Christmas songs. We were both mesmerized by the beauty before our eyes and by the words of Psalm 95, “He melts the mountains like wax”. Hard to believe when what is in front of you towers 8000+ kilometers. Other passages like “God above all gods” likewise take on new meaning when you are sitting aside a now replaced shrine to another.

The next morning we awoke before sunrise and bundled ourselves out on our patio to watch the mountains change color across a sea of clouds covering the valley. We have indulged in time of contemplation and prayer over who He is and who He has made us to be.

And then … CRASH! and SWISH! in the trees nearby. Our eager eyes soon found that the cause were 3 jumping monkeys, perhaps also out to get a good view of their valley so early in the morning. Brooke spent at least 30 minutes silently willing them back into view. They eventually left and on a whim, Brooke decided to go out the front door for a “just in case they went this way” peak. What met her there brought her running back to get me. Just outside our room, amid tall and thin pine trees, was a true MYRIAD of monkeys (30 or more?) … playing, swinging, chattering to one another … and eventually getting away from us as fast as possible. All ages, looked like a family group. They mesmerized us as their only audience for the rest of the early morning. It was … “totally wicked!” (Incredibles).

We then took a hike from the village down – a steep, nearly vertical down - to the town where we picked up the jeep the day before. The hike took a few hours and led us through all kinds of green plants and trees. Again, stunningly beautiful and spiritually contemplative:

Most of the contemplation has centered on the bold nature by which Christianity has claimed itself as the only path to God. This stands in stark contrast to the many religions that share a “many paths lead to the same place” view. Thus leaving itself in the position of either being totally true or totally false. We have both been reading Ravi Zacharias’ book “Jesus Among Other Gods”. So far, much food for thought.

A second line of thought has focused on the concept of m-work. I think we both have a new conviction about it within our own culture, as well as the importance of strengthening home grown m-work abroad. No one understands a culture better than one born in it. Granted the message of Truth transcends culture but who better to share that message than your family? (family: a concept somewhat lost in the West. This includes but is not limited to brother, sister, cousin, uncle, aunt, nephew, niece, neighbor, friend, stranger in need, etc., but I digress.)

After scrambling down the jungle-mountain and contemplating He who made it all, we hailed a bus to Kathmandu and begin the trek back. My spiritually calm world shattered with the blaring bus stereo of the same repeating bad songs for the next few hours. We then got stuck in a traffic jam on the mountain road. Next was the return to the choking smog filling our lungs and permeating our clothes. Finally we drove past 2 motorcyclists lying on the pavement. It was a fresh accident – likely fatal. One of them was probably 18.

Life is loud, it traps you from where you want to go, it clogs your senses, it abruptly ends. But we who know the truth know that our home is on the mountain. It SHOULD shock us to leave our home and make way for the city in the valley. We are called to live there for a time, but to remember from whence we came. Perhaps more shocking is when the city feels as comfortable to us as our own bedroom.

Indigenous-ness

Pretty sure that's not a proper word, but it nonetheless encapsulates a new realization for me. I am reading Steve Saint’s book “The Great Omission”, which presents a challenging and honest re-evaluation of m-work. My response and thoughts are still in progress, but I can say this much – I have never before recognized myself as an indigenous person. Never before pondered that as one who is indigenous to North America, I am thereby the most natural to reach my fellow North Americans. The Father already has my “yes” to anywhere He wants me to be, even with my wider-open eyes of how hard it would be in certain places, so this is not a cop-out that would allow me to stay in my cozy home in America. It’s truly a brand-new thought for me – I am uniquely equipped to reach someone across a Starbucks table … I’d just never seen it that way before.

What follows is nothing more and nothing less than a stream of consciousness that my reading and experiences have recently generated (by the way, I haven’t finished Steve’s book, but do recommend it).

Somehow, our faith has become seen as a “western” religion. But in fact we are among those who were once un-reached and now are, are we not? I wonder if forgetting this has not allowed for a bit of arrogance (did the chicken or the egg come first?) in how the American Ch approaches “reaching the un-reached”. How is “un-reached” even determined? I don’t know the answer to this. Does it mean we have no recorded proof that the Good News was delivered to that region? People? Isn’t even that a bit arrogant to think that if we don’t know whether they’ve ever been reached, then for sure it means they have not? He said His Word WILL be taught to all nations. What is a nation? And does He mean all at the same time period in history? And what about the knowledge that so many will hear and yet reject? Are the places and people I now consider un-reached actually people who have heard and already rejected? For those who truly never have heard the Good News, how best can that be delivered? Is it through the models I’ve been accustomed to? And as a result of Paul’s journeys to the Gentiles (is that not what the American Ch ultimately is?), what advice would he now offer us if he were to pen the book of “Americans”? I expect I will step on a lot of toes with these ramblings, but mine are getting the first bruises. The Father’s heart for the lost is unquestionable, and as His child, there is no question of IF, but HOW to then seek ways to bring His Truth and Relationship to this world. So chime in …